The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1887-01-19
In the Lighthouse. .

1t was the last day in the old year,
and yet it did not seem much like win
ter, though the maple trees were bare
and the flowers all dead. The oaks
were covered thickly with leaves. True,
when the wind blew it rustled through
brown, dry foliage very different to the
living tints of months back; but when
you looked at the soft, muddy roads, or
the clear, blue sky, you scarcely real
lied that it was just past Christmas.
John Hudson, keeper of the light
house at Fishing Point, was brushing
his weather-beaten coat (once black,
now almost " sage green'') and giving
parting directions to John Hudson,
Jr.-called "Jack " by his familiars:
"Now mind, and don't set the house
on fire while | am gone. / must fix
that chimney when l get back, or We'll
be burnt out yet; and don't take to fool
ing with the oil-there isn't very much
of it left now. There's that cord of
wood in the yard; | guess you had bet
ter fill the wood-boXes and pickup bit.
l expect the inspector will be round
before long, and we want to have every
thing taut and trim when he comes.
Get your dinner when you're ready:
may be back in time, and | may not,
with all these errands to do in the vii
lage; but, anyhow, l shall be home this
afternoon. Goodbye, sonny" and he
tramped briskly away through the trees.
"Stub! Stub! here, sir. You must
stay home with me. Father don't want
you. There's rat, sure's live! Sick
it, Stub! S-s-s-sick itP'
"Now," said Jack, after an exciting
chase, in which boy and dog howled
and barked most powerful duet,
now, Stub, We'll wash the breakfast
dishes-won't we?''
Stub looked knowing assent, and
sat gravely on chair (Which he first
knocked the cat Off while Jack washed
and dried the few dishes as deft as a
girl. He had lived here as long as he
could remember. His earliest recol-
lection was looking at the bright re-
Hector upstairs, and seeing in it a
sweet, loving face, with tender blue
eyes, near his own. His next memory
of the face was in coffin, pale and
still, while his father held his hand and
the minister from the village talked in
low, sad tone. But this was years
dRO, Wllcu JdCh was \dS uc WOulu III
form yoU "only a little fellow" Now,
from his dignified age of ten years, he
felt himself arrived at mans estate.
His father was formerly sailor, but
in consequence of losing one of his
fingers in the icy regions of the North
he had to accept the position of light
house keeper-loving the sea too well
to think for moment of any work
farther inland. Such stories as he used
to tell Jack in the winter days, when
they would be cut off by snow-drifts
from the rest of the world! Such thrill
ing adventures delighted the boys ears
in the long, solitary evenings-stories
of the time on Labrador, when ire
mendous whale capsized a boats crew
and two men got drowned; of the mu-
tiny that once broke out on the Fair
Betsey, and the sneaking Italian who
got put in irons for starting it.
Jack would 90 to bed with a " creepy :"
kind of feeling after these stories, but
the morning light always drove away
the shadows, and he would VOW to him
self never to let such ridiculous stories
brighten him again. "Stub, let's play
Robinson Crusoe in the yard, now that
the dishes are all washed; Jane Qo the
caD, you can come too, if you want"
said Jack, opening the door. Stub ac-
cepted the invitation for himself and
Jane by making a dart at her, as she lay
blinking near the stove, and rushing
her out-of-doors with scant ceremony.
"Ths shed here shall be the cave,
and I'll wear fathers fur cap and be
Robinson Crusoe. You can be Fri
day, Stub. You are black and you
don't know much; and Jane shall sit
up here on the woodpile and be the
parrot. Now, Friday, you just stay
there while l go to get some sticks for
the wood-box;" and Jack, making his
work into play, worked with will,
while the waves romped and tossed
about on the shore like merry children,
and little gray cloud, no bigger than
a mans hand, rose slowly to the north
and made another dash of color in the
brilliant sky.
"Why, l declare, if it amt going to
snowl l wish father would hurry up.
How quickly the clouds have come, and
they look heavy, too, as if they were
just bursting with the piles of snow
flakes hid away in them. My! won't it
be jolly coasting, though! 1t hasn't
been half a winter yet-no snow, eX-
cept little that melted right away,
and none Of the ponds frozen over. |
guess | had better see if my sled's all
right;' and away Jack ran on this hol-
low pretense-this delightful piece of
self-delusion about the condition of the
"Artful Dodger," for had he not ex-
amined it daily for the past two months
and longed impatiently for chance to
use it? my! there's snowflake
as sure's the world; and there's another
and another-swarms of 'emn eX-
claimed happy Jack to his small but
select audience of Stub and Jane
They were very amiable, and frisked
and gamboled with as good an appear.
ance of happy innocence as could be
desired.
It's getting dark very quickly; not
four O'Clock yet. guess it's going tC
be a pretty big fall this time, and
whewl Stub, hear the wind; sounds
squally, don't it?"
Stub looked with an air of gravity
through the window, and seemed to be
of the opinion that it certainly did APP
pear threatening.
What keeps father SO late, won
der? If it keeps on getting dark as
fast as this the light will have to be
fixed pretty soon"